Writing For Life
by newsiesgirllaces
Summary: Never would I have guessed that I'd meet a demon.


**Might just be a one shot. Might turn into something longer. Who knows. **

**L.L.A.P**

**~Laces**

_**Writing for Life**_

I wanted to be a writer.

I mean, writing has been something I've been invested in for a long time, and I enjoy a good story. Hell, story time in elementary school was my favorite time of day.

So, I made sure to go to a college where I could major in writing.

There were tons of colleges with good English programs, but after being in a huge high school, I knew I wanted a small college. And after my experiences with a city, I also knew that I wanted a rural college.

So, I chose a nice college that was about two hours away from my home and in a nice rustic setting. Besides a small town, there wasn't much else besides miles of fields and trees.

I was adjusting nice to college life. I could be freer away from my parents, and I liked to walk randomly through the town. It was nice and friendly and had a café where I could write at ease.

My friends thought that it was strange how I picked to go to a rural college rather than a college in the city. They thought that if I lived in a city, I had a better chance to get published and the what not. But I was adamant that I wanted a college away from the city.

Besides enjoying writing, I also enjoyed reading comic books, watching t.v shows, and reading some other books too. I guess you could say that I'm a bit of a nerd.

Anyway, one day I was on my normal stroll around the town when I saw someone who just looked… different.

I stopped and stared at him. It wasn't like he was some drop dead gorgeous hot guy. I mean, he was good looking, but not enough to make me stop and stare. There was just something about him. It was as if the rest of the people walking around didn't even see him.

I must've made a face because he smiled and approached me. I don't know why I didn't up and run. I mean, I read a ton of articles where college students were kidnapped raped and killed near the campus, and I told myself that I wasn't going to be one of those girls.

However, something about this guy… I couldn't exactly put my finger on it. I felt like his gaze just paralyzed me in my place. I couldn't even move my mouth to ask who he was.

"Nice to meet you." He said in a smooth voice with a gentle grin. My throat felt dry and scratchy, which was weird because it felt fine moments ago.

"H-hi." I stuttered, finding it hard to speak.

"Have we met before?" he questioned. I shook my head, still finding it difficult to speak.

His eyes then rested on my thick notebook that I was clutching in my hand along with several pencils.

"A writer?" he questioned, but I felt like he knew the answer already. However, I nodded.

His smile widened, and he tilted his head to the side.

"I have a story I'd like to tell. Would you care to listen?" he grinned as he stuck out his hand. "My name is Ronnie, by the way."

This statement seemed weird to me. I felt like this was a horror story waiting to happen. However… there was something about him. As if I knew he wasn't lying to me.

"Usually, when someone sticks out their hand, they want you to shake It." he informed, still with his hand outstretched.

I wordlessly took his hand, shaking it.

"I was just about to relax in a café nearby. Would you join me? It's a nice play to tell a story." he informed, and once again, I nodded, following him to the café.

We sat at a seat near the window and I opened up my notebook to a blank page.

"What is your name? Since you know my name I think it's only fair that I know yours." "Dallas." I informed, finding it easier to speak. "Erika Dallas Colon." I didn't know why I felt like I had to tell him my full name. I just did.

"But you like to go by Dallas?" he questioned.

"Yes."

"Interesting." He smiled. He then pulled out two bottles from his bag. "Want one? I hate having to pay for drinks when I can always have my own."

"What's inside?" I questioned uneasily.

"Soda." He informed with a chuckle. "I wouldn't try to give you alcohol. How old are you? Seventeen?"

"Eighteen." I corrected. He smirked at me and handed me a bottle.

I know. I know. I should never take a drink from a man I hardly even knew, but the soda bottle seemed legit, and the bottle cap had yet to be removed, so it wasn't like he spiked it with something. Right?

I drank the soda. It was a bit flat, but still good. Ronnie drank his as well; however he didn't cease smiling at me.

"So, are you interested to hear the story?" he questioned.

"Yes sir." I nodded, pencil ready.

"My story is about a demon."

"A demon?"

"Yes. You see, he went through many years with a notorious group known as the Martillo Gangster family, watching as things unfolded…"

Ronnie then proceeded to tell me about the demon's story and how he was intrigued with how humans reacted and how he made some of them immortal by having them drink a special elixir. The demon watched with fascination as to how the immortals reacted to their longevity. As Ronnie told the tale, I continued to drink the soda and scribble down quickly what he said.

We were in the café for well more than two hours, but he was a good story teller, and I was determined to write it all down.

"… but the demon started to get bored. He got bored of the same immortals going through life. So he started to wonder… what would happen if he added another immortal to the mix. Perhaps one who was more current." He grinned.

"So there's a new immortal?" I questioned. His golden eyes locked onto my darker brown ones and he started to chuckle. His chuckle then grew into an all-out laugh.

"And I was hoping you would understand after I told you that._ Well, no matter._" He shrugged after his laughing died down, and my eyes widened.

"Figured it out?" Ronnie questioned with a smile. Before I could say anything he swiftly grabbed my hand. He took out a knife from his jacket and slide the blade across my palm, and I winced in pain. The blood trickled out from my palm, but then something strange occurred. The blood seeped back into my skin, and the cut closed up as if nothing had happened.

"But… how…" my eyes fixated on the empty bottle of soda. "You put the immortality drink in the soda." I whispered.

"Yes." He nodded.

"And… now I'm immortal?"

"Yes. You should be thanking me." he grinned.

"But… all my friends… and my family… I'll have to watch them die before me. And I'll look like this for the rest of my life! An eighteen year old!"

Ronnie shrugged without empathy.

"You'll get over it after the first century." He then looked at my notebook. "And I'm sure your newfound longevity will help with your writing." He informed as he stood from the seat. "I will be seeing you again. Have fun." With that, Ronnie was gone.

I sat at the counter, my head in my hands. I was immortal.

And for the first time, I didn't know what to do with my life.


End file.
